Denial: The River of Egypt
by Symphony In The Silence
Summary: Short story, in three parts: when reality becomes too much to bear, escapism becomes both a friend and an enemy. Thin is the line between reality and fantasy. Which one is real?
1. Chapter 1

Well, this is my first shot at writing anything even remotely fictional, so I hope it comes out alright! This was actually a one-shot but I found it might be difficult to understand all at once, so I am simply breaking this very short story up into three parts.

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This is the first, so here goes!

I wanted to thank my very supportive friends and loved ones for their encouragement and inspiration:

To Kim: thanks for always being such a good listener, having a kind and gentle heart, and for calming me down when I freak out over the dumbest stuff in the world, like a comma splice or some other random thing. You will be missed, but we'll always be friends at heart, right?

To Ray: you always put up with my high levels of stress amidst my work, fluctuations, day dreams, and quirks, and somehow you always bring me back down to earth. Love you.

To Anna Leah: I hope you do not mind me giving you props, but you are an amazing friend and writer who will never fail to inspire me - thanks again for all your encouragement. Thanks for sharing your views and honesty, and I'll always be your number stalker - er, I mean number one fan XD! (_Scone!_)

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**Disclaimer**: No copyright infringement is intended; I do not claim ownership of Mai HiME, Sunrise does.

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**Denial: The River of Egypt**

What is reality but a mere interpretation? We are creatures of convenience, and accordingly our senses follow.

But when our conscience blends dark with light, the sub-conscience becomes our only truth.

Throughout the struggle, we must strive to rise above our warped perceptions of biased truth.

Voices, distant.

Amid the blackness, a small light struggled to survive - a bright core with only darkness around it.

Time seemed to be at a standstill as the masses swayed around her, rhythmic yet varied in their drunken dance, heavy in their frenzied fight for attention. Vomit and alcohol made love upon the pavement, provoking a nauseating response in her already irritated mind. The twisted circus music which warped itself and altered with each floating passerby offensively penetrated past the cries and shoves of the crowd, further disturbing her thoughts which were far, far away by now.

_Thoughts of her. _

The tunnel vision lightened a bit, the golden radiance weakening then thinning around the edges. The elbows which continued to jab into her ribs and her own clenched fists were startling reminders of her own time and place.

The shouts of joy further distanced her from the members of the present, unwanted company.

"_Laissez les bons temps rouler!" _she heard for the millionth time.

And she swore by Christ, Allah, and all that was holy, that the next person who said it was going to find him or herself under the wheels of the next obnoxiously decorated vehicle which passed by. She clenched her teeth and – for the millionth time – rolled her eyes in such an exasperated fashion, an observer might think they would soon roll back into her head, never to be seen again.

A parade was definitely not where she wanted to be now of all times, for there is no lonelier a place than in a crowd.

One more shove to her torso, this time from the buff shoulder of the clumsy, drunk frat boy next to her, and her knuckles took on a mind of their own as they swept a clear uppercut under his chin. The right jaw cracked, teeth crushed begrudgingly together, and eyes went wide with shock before the stunned face whipped sharply to the left. The back of his head hit the concrete with a loud thud and he barely caught a glimpse of his assailant's smirk before blacking out.

"Natsuki, stop being such a party pooper!" her red headed, bubbly friend reminded her with a poke to the ribs, yet again.

Internally, she wondered why she had ever agreed to accompany her to this God forsaken city which smelled of rotten sewage and seemed only to consist of the loudmouthed drunks which currently surrounded her. Every time she questioned her reasoning, she again landed at the same conclusion of a friend's encouragement to join her in an adventure and, "clear her mind and let distance make the heart grow fonder." Besides, the Big Easy was said to be a fun place, full of different cultures, and the exchange student program offered reasonable lodging for the next two semesters.

"Big Easy my ass…more like a fifty yen whore," she grumbled, under her breath.

She had to get the hell out of there before she let loose on every single miserable asshole wearing the cheap plastic beads.

"I should have stayed. I should have stayed…" she echoed her earlier thoughts as she turned and slowly shoved her way to the back of the crowd, careful not to bump the red plastic cups in the hands of all the duplicated dummies around her. Who the hell ever conjured up the brilliant idea of street legal open containers anyway? The smell of beer was making her ill and she was already nearly dehydrated, despite the late winter season.

_Should have stayed…_

Not because she hated the new culture. Not because she missed her old apartment. Not because she had only one single, solitary friend who spoke Japanese in this somewhat-English/God-knows-what-else-language speaking city. And certainly not because she couldn't adapt to the strange foods all around her (some were hard to pronounce, let alone _eat_).

_Because of her._

But she shoved those thoughts - and the people around her - aside, never allowing them to fully reach her conscious thought lest they sway her actions.

_No. I made the right decision._

Surely she had done the right thing: feelings were building and free falling like a mighty tidal wave, white capping and curling into a disastrous mixture of passion, want, _need!_ She had never _needed_ anyone before, and certainly wouldn't start now. Barriers were put in place of acknowledgment, denial in place of acceptance, bitterness in place of surrender.

And tunnel vision pierced through the rear of the obnoxious crowd once more. Memories floated about: more powerful than the greasy gluttony around her; more melodious than the blues musician on the corner making a living amidst the noise; more splendid than any of the drugs consumed like sugar coated candy by all the chaotic creeps struggling to catch a shitty souvenir.

A scene played out before her eyes so vividly she could almost touch, feel, hear, taste every last detail:

"Natsuki," her ruby eyed lover teased as she let each syllable roll off her accented tongue like a song, sweet yet laced with a subtle half-moan, hinting at a secret only partially hidden.

The room was aglow, orange tinting the walls and furnishings with the morning light and painting a cruel reminder of responsibilities, reality -_life!_

Fingertips massaged her scalp, moist palms raking against her strands, pulling them slightly as Shizuru dragged her hands softly through ebony tresses, her body flush against the supple, small form. Natsuki groaned as she opened her eyes slightly and silently wished death to alarm clocks worldwide, thinking only of the softness of the sheets, the bed, and the lips now barely grazing her neck with a featherlike touch.

She closed her eyes again, begging time to stop, yet knowing time was merciful to none...

Her breath hitched.

Like a snowy television failing to receive complete transmissions, her emotions were already blurring together - anxiety with passion, hope with fear. Amidst the thoughts while she struggled to find clarity, the sound of static echoed in the background of even the most concrete notions.

_Why can't we always be this way?_

She felt a soft hand flat against her stomach, fingers splaying slowly and moving upward, endearingly, and she gently touched the face of her lover and pulled her closer, their foreheads bumping together.

_Why can't the world just leave us alone for a day?_

She breathed in her scent and reminders of school, cherry blossoms, a broken heart, and crushed flowers filled her mind as she drew together reminders of where they had come from and where they were at that moment.

_Why can't we always have what we want?_

She cradled the tawny blonde head protectively in her hands, unknowingly afraid she might slip away if she let go, even for a moment.

_Afraid..._

And bodies drew even closer, legs tangled, arms hooked around the others' torso, and fear and contentment collided within the respective hearts of Natsuki and Shizuru as they melted together like oil and water within a kiss...

"Watch where yer goin'!" a drunkard slurred in her face, and Natsuki felt herself stunned for a moment, suddenly realizing where she was.

She had nearly knocked him down in her brisk, aimless walking down the French Quarter. It was difficult to determine who ran into whom exactly, not that she cared. _He_ was the one intoxicated in public, after all.

"Dude, you're _so_ drunk!" his inebriated buddy yelled at him - although their faces were inches apart- as he slapped him on the back and held him up slightly to prevent him from falling over completely.

"I'm not - hic - drunk!"

Natsuki growled in frustration, knowing when to pick her battles, and walked around them in disgust, leaving them to their own devices. They were like the blind leading the blind.

"Yeah, and denial ain't just a river in Egypt!" she heard the other yell behind her.

_Hmph..._

She made the decision to go into the next bar she encountered, being terribly thirsty and irritated. She had to call it a night after this, she thought. This was too much. All she needed was a glass of water then a good night's sleep - if she could ever find either one of those...

Several blocks passed by her, floats paraded happily down the street while continuing to annoy her, and women wearing far too little popped up like roaches out of the woodwork. Finally spotting a humble, small bar catty cornered from her, she made a mad dash for it before catching her breath and hesitantly walking through the French doors.

The dark bar seemed strangely abandoned, compared to the rowdy streets. A few booths clung to the walls to her right, leading to a dark rear hallway and a glowing jukebox. To her left, the bar stretched parallel to the city of bottles alight behind it, stools standing at attention in front, abandoned and lonely. It was dimly lit with only the purple neon signs and trim around the ceiling giving off a faint glow, further making her feel awkward in such a place. Soft music played from the back of the room as an old folk singer's comforting voice and acoustic guitar spoke of Susanne's flames and water, sweet dreams and flying machines.

The bartender, an old man with a gentle look about him and an aged, faded Navy tattoo on his right arm, smiled as he looked up from his polished shot glasses. She swallowed hard and licked her cracked lips, slowing her breathing as she approached the overly waxed, wooden bar and asked for a simple glass of water.

"Not from around here, are you?" he teased, stating the obvious.

His name badge read SAM.

Natsuki finally managed to smile inwardly as she received her water, relieved to encounter a friendly face - the face of someone far removed from the intoxication and hedonism of the city. Sam didn't mean any harm. He was an old war vet, as evidenced by the old black and white Navy pictures posted on the wall behind him. He went back to drying the glasses.

She chugged her water and was about to ask for another glass before Sam read her mind and placed another in front of her, extending his hand to take her now empty one.

"Thanks," she said, barely above a mumble. She was tired.

"Hiding from the other youngins?" he asked, gesturing to the parade outside not far beyond the doors.

"Kind of..." Natsuki answered, her eyes seemingly trailing off to no place in particular as she studied the wood grain of the bar and slumped onto a stool.

"Well be careful goin' home tonight, pretty young thang like you shouldn't be out alone , ya know?"

"Mm..." she sighed and rested her face into the palm of her hand as she leaned on her elbow and looked at her glass.

"I'll be back in a couple minutes. If someone comes in..." the old man trailed off, "...just tell em to wait."

And he slowly disappeared through a small narrow door behind the bar, nestled in the corner, practically hidden. The neon lights reflected in her water as she tipped her glass this way and that, watching the water cling to one side then subside to the other. She desperately tried to clear her mind, to little avail.

_I'm such a coward._

She frowned.

_But I'm sure she's fine...probably at the snow festival._

She folded her arms together and placed them on the bar before burying her face in them. Crying would have been a relief, but she was far too stubborn for such weakness to make its way past her barriers.

"Looks like you could use a pick me up," came an unfamiliar voice behind her.

Her spine went rigid as she shot up and gripped her glass tightly, readying herself for harassment. What could a stranger want with her? And when did he arrive? Furthermore, how did he manage to sneak up on her? Within half a second, she had made up her mind that no matter who he was, how he'd gotten there, or what he wanted, she would get rid of him as quickly as possible - and by any means necessary. She turned around on her stool, careful not to let her guard down or avert her eyes, lest she let him know he had startled her.

Before her stood a rather odd looking "creature" - as she would have put it: a young man with an odd sort of dress about him, tattered clothes of a Bo Jangles style, and a ridiculous green top hat. His nose was sharp and long, cheeks hollow and eyes sunken inward.

"What do you want?" she snorted, hardly containing her irritability.

"Hey now, is that any way to introduce yourself?" he grinned, showing his ugly teeth, which she likened to those of a horse. She had half a mind to knock the front two out if he kept up the smiling bit.

She was too proud to let him have the upper hand by leaving. If _anyone_ was leaving, it was going to be _him_.

"Just water, hmm? Anything else I can get you?" he offered.

"I don't drink," she snapped, as she turned her back on him.

He invited himself to sit down beside her on the neighboring stool, and leaned unnaturally forward on his elbow at an awkward angle, eager to insert himself back into her line of sight. His bright eyes gleamed with an unnatural glow, pupils like saucers as he breathed heavily. He made her skin crawl with each audible breath, for he was becoming more and more unwanted by the second.

"Oh, well..." he slid his eyes to the right and moved closer as she balled up her fist, yet again, "I've got gum too," he whispered. "Jokers, swans, and tabs? Bla-"

"Listen circus freak, you're two seconds away from getting your ass handed to you if you don't leave me the hell alone!"

As if he expected the response, the skinny young man slid off the stool like a snake, barely making a sound as he did so, before placing his hand on the counter and sliding it in Natsuki's direction. He lifted his palm to reveal two red pills. She stared at the pills, shocked that she'd been not just offered, but given them for no apparent reason. She certainly didn't _want_ them. Still, she continued to stare at them as he made his farewell, nearly singing it as if he were possessed by the jazzy fever around him.

"People around here know me as the Mad Hatter, but you can call me TJ. Call me if you ever find yourself in need of a..._'pick me up_' mmkay?" and she detected a mischievous glint in his eye as she watched him from her peripheral view, still stunned at the situation. Just as he slipped out of her line of sight, she finally found her tongue.

"Go to hell," she spat, her voice deepening in her most defensive of states.

Ready to plant her heels firmly on the ground, she whipped around on her stool only to find that the mysterious stranger - this _'TJ'_ - was no longer to be found. He had vanished just as quickly as he had appeared, leaving behind only the pills, a small card with a number on it, and a chilling air. The jukebox played on, Sam was still nowhere in sight, and the bar appeared as untouched and squeaky clean as ever. She looked about her, more paranoid than ever, before turning her attention to the round red pills stamped with smiley faces.

_Shizuru..._

Ah, how ridiculous to see her even in _those_ kinds of things, and she dismissed the thoughts as mere reflections of a tiresome night.

_What a creep._

And how ridiculous too to name yourself after Lewis Carol's literary nut job. Probably just another moronic shit head that thought himself truly intellectual - one who believed drugs were the gateway to opening up the savant abilities of the dormant mind and strived for that excessive serotonin roll or that psychedelic psilocybin trip. Just another loser who can't handle reality sober, who called himself adventurous but was in fact nothing more than a coward who hid away from facing the truth.

_Well, I sure as hell don't need any help with that..._

The snowy, static transmissions returned to blend hesitance with certainty.

She could handle reality.

She didn't need anyone's help.

She wasn't hiding from any truths.

She was fine.

_I'm fine._

And as if furiously gulping down the rest of the water would prove her point to the universe, she chugged it down her throat without a second thought, not giving any heed to the slightly salty taste as she slammed it back down on the counter. One last glace at the pills brought her fists furiously pounding against the surface of the bar. In a flaming tantrum, she grabbed both the pills and the card with the number on it and marched to the restroom in the back where she flushed the pills and ripped the card into shreds.

Emerging from the restroom, she hesitantly looked about, not knowing if there was indeed a charge for a simple glass of water. She left a couple of bucks on the counter and walked out, anxious to make her way home, for the crowd was thinning now as the parade seemed to be wrapping up, and the night was wearing on. She gradually made her way through the bodies, the odor of which seemed to fill the air no matter how she held her nose or turned her head.

Then slowly, as she went about navigating the sea of bodies around her, the faces all turned on her, one by one, each with a glare to cut diamonds by the dozen. Their smiles disappeared, discouragement taking their place. They were all so disappointed with her: like the boy who opened his palm only to discover the firefly escaped; like the girl whose love letter was returned in her cold, cruel locker, crumpled up, and in pieces; like the child at the piano recital who hit the wrong keys over and over, perfectionist parents shaking their heads in the audience – she was the definition of _disappointment and rejection._

_What have I done?_

"Coward."

"You ran away."

"You didn't even have the decency to give a proper goodbye."

"Didn't think of her feelings, only of yourself."

And on and on they sang, caring nothing for _her_ point of view, for _her_ side of the story. Their brows creased together and they ridiculed her with every shoulder shove, every mocking glance, every scoffing accusation, and every recollection of past sins and former memories which happily took their home in the heavy baggage always hoisted upon her wary shoulders. She carried them everywhere, and the masses added in their two cents, thinking it not enough – she must atone for each and every phone call where tears were shed. For every, "It'll be alright…" when she knew it wouldn't, when she was anxious for an immediate solution because she hated to see or hear Shizuru cry. And for every "I love you" whispered which was laced with a hint of self-doubt - she must be damned.

"Do not avoid your ship to Ninevah! Salvation lies in the acceptance of your sins, in the willingness to give it all up!" shouted the preacher man on the smelly street corner as the evil eyes circled all around her.

Ring around the rosy, like an unavoidable black plague, the crowd rounded her still. Natsuki stopped and looked down at her hands, the blood which streamed forth just below each palm, the jungle of complex nerves among metacarpals which was now newly exposed, and the nails which were being driven by the hammer in hand of the bystanders. They laughed jubilantly as they bore her soul to the pavement, anxious to seek out revenge and execute it as they saw fit: justice, cold and unforgiving, just as she deserved. She readied herself for the spear to pierce her side, but before the soldier let loose the sharp red polearm, she felt her stomach wrench with her guilt.

The crowd disappeared. Pain wracked her body. Lose pebbles in the gravel dug sharply into her palms now as she feebly steadied herself on all fours. Reality set in. Violet vomit spewed forth onto the pavement and Natsuki hunched over the puddle as she attempted to gather her wits in an alley way, unable to recall where she was or how she had gotten there. She checked her pockets: no wallet, no cell, no money.

_Great. Just fucking great._

Another stomach warping convulsion brought forth more violent puking sensations and she projected the nasty stomach acid from her person, confused and panicking at the current situation. She knew neither the time nor the place. Delusional thoughts mixed with reality as she dizzyingly struggled to maintain her balance against a cold brick wall. Blackness crept forward once more like the reaper's ominous overcoat, waves of ashen fabric engulfing her beneath heavy lidded eyes.

Static and snow resounded in her ears as she slowly slumped to the ground against the wall and felt herself free fall into the abyss, swimming in black ink as she searched for the elusive red sunrise.


	2. Chapter 2

Part two. I fear this is not the most popular type of story, but I enjoyed writing it, and it contains many messages, so I pray it moves you in some way.

Pure. White. Snow.

All around her, it glistened in the moonlight.

The early, predawn fog which made its way past her lips visibly evaporated, heavy with each slow breath. It was thick in the otherwise thin Sapporo air, robbed of moisture, just like her dry lungs, dry lips, dry eyes. The bench had become uncomfortable, creaking with each movement, subtle as they were. A thin layer of ice had formed on it, a coating of shimmering glass which made it all the more hardened - just like her heart.

Just like everything around her.

As serene as she may have appeared to have been for the last few hours as she sat practically motionless, inside was a war, a maelstrom of tumultuous confusion thickened with self-hatred. She had stopped shivering long ago, despite her loose, thin jacket which barely sufficed in such climate. There were times when she could not accept reality. And now where clarity once abided safely within the heart of the Fuuka Academy school star, disorientation lived instead.

"You know," Natsuki said as she sat beside her, "you forgot to take your lithium today."

And she looked up to what little could be seen of the stars.

"And the day before that...and before that..." Shizuru trailed off as she lightly flicked her eyes to her right once more to catch a glimpse of the face of her love, her Venus, her beginning and inevitable end.

"You found me."

And red eyes went wide for a moment.

Denial was her drug of choice.

A gust of wind blew and her eyes misted over slightly but no tears were to be found. No, she could not cry.

There was a point beyond tears, outside of the wretched mourning of the shadows, deeper than the superficial theatrics of dopamine loss and heavy hearted whispers of sorrow. It was down this lonely lane just between Hell and splendid insanity that Shizuru had travelled, silently suffering, unable to utter a word of protest at the loss of _her_.

Natsuki. Her Natsuki.

Only a note was to be found in the place where her things once belonged, even if only for a little while.

_But oh, she had loved her! _

Even if it was short-lived, even if it was only for a week, a day, a moment - Shizuru had been able to call Natsuki her own. They were Ruby and Emerald. Fire and Ice. Red met Green in a clash of comets, radiant with flames of their respective colors, long trails which spoke of their journeys streaming far behind them. They had finally found one another.

But the tides of despairing loss have a way of sweeping away the deepest of oceans with a fury unlike any other, ushering the waves of passion to indefinitely disappear into oblivion with only dreaded uncertainty to remain as company.

She hung her head low and closed her eyes, her first real movement in what seemed like ages on the abandoned public park bench.

Had she truly spent the night there? Time had gotten away from her in this place, yet she hadn't a time piece to tell her the truth of her insanity. Her frigid hands gripped the bench's ledge with a shaking, frail touch, for almost no blood ran through her hypothermic fingers.

In the early half of the day before, she had dragged herself, alone and without a care in the world - for what was there left in her world to care for? - to the snow festival where she saw the faces of jubilant children ogle at the newly carved ice sculptures and the crowning of the so-called '_snow queen'. _

_How dare they?_

Natsuki agreed in her own ways of silent companionship - she really wasn't _that_ pretty. Nor was she reflective of royalty or nobility. Nor was she even reminiscent of snow at all! This 'queen' looked to Shizuru like everyone in the world, for they **all** looked the same - except Natsuki, of course.

And all day long, from the view of the park bench, they had watched the couples hold mitten covered hands together, the little bobbing heads accompanying them always within arms' reach in the happy little state of their wonderful little family on this perfect day where the sun was shining and the world was watching. Had it not been for the winter season, the birds would have burst forth in their glorious passion to sing the flowers to life, to revive spring and nature itself while anxiously opening the '_darling buds of May_' and making all things new. The cold mimicked her bitterness, calling forth her ugly resentment and smothering her reasoning along with it. Logic had no place where such childish defiance stood, stubborn as a dam which would bar the Nile itself.

The hours ticked on. The sculptures melted. The crowds thinned. The sun sank with her heart. The festival wrapped up with the communal cleaning, and they all lived happily ever after.

_All save one._

Shizuru refused to even walk the block back to her tiny apartment, the sight of which only served to disturb her when reflecting upon the past six months. All things wither with time, some more so than others. The small apartment balcony became her new companion many nights when she could not sleep.

Damn the world for continuing business as usual.

"Baka..." Natsuki whispered into the nighttime air, "why are you so upset over someone like me? I only said I needed some space and a little time to think," and she nuzzled her nose under Shizuru's left jaw, her arms draped around her neck as she loosely embraced her from behind.

Shizuru sat motionless, unflinching.

"You left me," she replied flatly, unable to comprehend anything beyond that simple fact: Natsuki had indeed left and parchment was a poor replacement for a lover's confession of angst.

"I just needed some _time_..." Natsuki reiterated, her breath on Shizuru's neck the only warmth she had felt for hours.

Time.

_Time!_

Time was life, yet life was lost with time. As timed ticked on, so Shizuru's end came nearer and nearer. Withering away, unable to eat or sleep, she had shut herself away from the world. She was locked away behind tall mirrored doors barred with raven locks. Medication offered little solace to an already broken mind and heart, treating symptoms but not causes. Acceptance of reality was nigh impossible.

If only time could be reversed!

_To before..._

Before: when love and curiosity were still new, and when affection was shown in the unlikeliest of things. When tenderness manifested itself in blushing glances, sticky notes, clammy palms and intertwined fingers. When fleeting encounters were held within hearts so tightly that it could make one's day - week, _month!_ - just to see the other. Roaring tides could not separate the hearts of those two lovers in their primal heat of passion where glistening sweat made skin slick with want - a salty taste so familiar on the tip of her tongue, and yet so far away...so very far away.

_The other side of the world, in fact. _

Phone calls, letters, texts and emails were of little use to one so accustomed to having the object of her affection so very near. She missed the touch, the sound, the smell, the _essence_ of Natsuki. Slowly, she felt them drift apart over the course of the semester - work, assignments and responsibilities further complicating an already complex long distance relationship. She rejected this form of reality, gradually and unknowingly escaping to her ideal world.

Bloody orbs finally opened, peering down at the snow beneath her feet, and above her feet, for it had half buried them by now. She felt the cold no longer, though - she had long been numb.

How it did mock her pain, this icy cold slush.

Her ice maiden's skin was a far more perfect shade of glistening white than nature's powdery precipitation. Her frosty stare: seductive, terrible, and pleading all at once. Her cold hands and warm heart could freeze time itself, then melt it away in a moment's briefest kiss.

The falling snow, silent to most anyone else, thundered in her ears as she slipped into a state near sleep, half dreaming, half dead. In the distance, it was almost as if she could hear a piano faintly playing a soft melody. She hummed along in her delusional state.

_Am I dying? _

No, life was too cruel to bring her death. Not yet. Not when she wanted it most.

Darkness seeped in, capturing what was left of her consciousness, encasing any sense she still had left within its frost bitten hands.

She surrendered.

Surrendering meant freedom, and therein slept the Emerald City where malachite towers stretched high above, accented by green jewels which paved the roads and littered the walls; where a husky voice blew upon the warm winds, anxiously chasing after her own heart; and where love need not be so crudely direct, content to let itself just _Be_.

The city lay hidden, except to the crimson, inquisitive gaze. Two viridian moons shimmered high in the sky above the city, shining light and warmth down into the darkness, piercing the black with a frightening beauty to make devils and angels shriek alike. And yet...

Where was she - Natsuki?

_Natsuki..._

The piano played on.

Shizuru found herself amid the core citadel's circular base, vast and majestically built marble hallways surrounding her in every direction. Her footsteps clanked loudly upon the stone floors of the large, empty passages. The only light which could be seen was the splendor which streamed in through the large, oval windows from the exquisite moons above, casting sharp shadows under her feet as she frantically ran to nowhere. The faster she ran, the slower her struggle unfolded.

Eons passed.

Coming to a large, open room at the end of a hall, she found the piano she had been hearing all of this time. An over sized clock stretched to the ceiling to her right, nearly curving into the roof. A haunting, sweet sound flowed from the keys of the piano, yet its melody ceased whenever she attempted to approach it.

_Why? _

Her panicked emotions melted away, sadness takings their place. Time stopped and the gigantic clock's pendulum halted without flinching toward the left side of its great wooden housing, the hands stuck at 8:15, as always.

_Always_ _on my mind..._

Her shaking fingertips nervously traced over the keys, remembering the familiar feel of ivory beneath her hands. She dragged her digits down, down lower, in a glissando fashion, and lower still until the moist, heady bass notes made the treble moan. She was born to play the piano, after all. She whipped her face to the right, golden bangs intertwining with her lashes. She gently shut her eyes and sharply inhaled an audible, desperate breath through parted lips. Ebony mimicked the touch of black in just the right places, and memories of the melody swam in her mind as sweet melancholy made its home in her heart. And she relished the feeling - her only companion in a world without _her_.

But she wouldn't cry. She couldn't cry.

Denial yet again dammed up the river; no tears flowed despite the enormous pressure.

Sadness turned to anger and anger into disbelief. The white and black keys before her eyes melted together and suddenly a dismal grey was born.

_No..._

_No!_

_**NO!**_

And Shizuru smashed the grey before her eyes, sickened and unable to tell one color from the other. A million shards burst forth from the fit of rage and flew in every direction but the floor, for now the floor was high above as she looked down at the ceiling. A million Shizurus stared back at her in every glass-like sliver, rubies galore, each with an accusing stare. Always perceiving herself from a million angles, she was now personified in the tangible form of mockery within glass. They all turned on her, barely containing their hatred, scarcely resisting the urge to come forth from their mirror form to slit her throat.

How she longed for it...

"_SHIZURU_!"

A familiar, sought-after voice screamed her name in a panicked, desperate tone, and in a split millisecond, she found herself in a cold, dreary place. Her hands were freezing and her face felt the unmistakable impression of hardened snow surrounding her cheeks and nose; she was barely allowed enough space to inhale air into her nearly lifeless lungs.

She was face down in the snow, returning to reality as she struggled to comprehend what was happening. What was this pain in her ribs?

The piano returned at a quickened pace.

"**I said give me your wallet bitch**!" and another kick to the torso.

Blood was violently forced forth from her stomach, contrasting crimson against the winter wonderland, causing her to drift even further toward the brink of death. She opened her eyes as the assaulter rolled her on her back, searching her pockets for what little could be found on her pathetic person.

A quick, last glance at her scoffing lunar companion, a daring grin on her psychotic face, a bewildered assailant pausing to reconsider, a brief glint upon a small blade in the moonlight, and the piano halted with a crashing blow to the keys.

_Fermata..._


	3. Chapter 3

Please forgive the delay in uploading the final chapter to my simple one-shot, though it has long been finished. I found it difficult to write - and yet even more difficult to obtain the courage to share - this final piece for many deeply personal reasons. Still, I felt compelled to write and share, though I do not know if I shall write much in the future. Only time will tell.

Dear Anna Leah and Kim, thank you both once more for your inspiration and friendship. We are separated by time and distance but I hold you both dear to my heart. You are bold and magnificent women to me, clothed in the strength and dignity that I cherish and admire so greatly; I hope to implement within myself those things which I see within you both, my dear friends. All my best to you. I miss you both.

And to my dear Raymond: as always my love, your sweet heart is a reminder of all that I seek to find in myself at the end of each day, for what do we gain from philosophy and intellect if we are left without the love, laughter and compassion which you so seamlessly exhibit? All my perfectionist, premeditated habits are not worth half of one of your spontaneously sincere gestures. I love you (_damn it_).

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Mai HiME belongs to sunrise. I own nothing.

* * *

Waves of golden silk brushed her bare porcelain shoulders, tickling her soft skin as she felt her lover embrace her from behind, arms wrapped like gently rolling waves around her waist and heart.

Natsuki smiled, remembering her home, finally feeling at peace for the first time in ages. A sense of belonging filled her heart and warmth - welcoming, sweet, and so very, _very_ missed - flooded her emotions.

She was where she belonged.

So unafraid, she thought neither of the place nor time, nor reason why they were there, but only of the taste of Shizuru's lips, which mingled with the salty taste of tears that had begun to stream down both their faces. With so much fervor did they kiss, and for so long, that neither of them felt the need for words.

Senses were flooded.

Hands were hungry.

Hearts were one...

_BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!_

Who knew paradise would crumble from the simple capabilities of a cell phone alarm?

Natsuki shot out of bed, fists clenching covers, eyes brimming with tears, and wearing last night's clothing. A note on her bedside from Mai - her loyal friend and roommate - gave indication of the results of last night's wild ride. She vaguely remembered a parade and a bar, an old man and a creepy drug dealer, and vomiting in an alleyway before blacking out. Thankfully, it seems Mai had found her and, with the helpful efforts of some stranger named Sam, managed to get Natsuki to bed.

The dimly lit dorm room was of little comfort to her. Her body achingly rebuked her as she attempted to stand, limbs rigid from an unknown pain throughout, palms raw, knees bruised, stomach queasy. Her bare feet stuck to the tiled floor, for she was still sweaty from anxious dreams and the clarity of hindsight.

The tiny mirror above the little sink slapped her in the face and last night's bitter taste just would not leave her mouth with the spitting of toothpaste and mouthwash. Stretching and yawning failed to breathe life into her. The shower proved even lonelier a place as she felt herself crumple to the tiled floor, dismissing the awkwardness of such childish behavior, caring not for the water beads which beat upon her soft skin with exaggerated pressure, her body sore all over.

With hair wet and tidy as seaweed, she gathered her bent knees in front of her and placed her folded arms atop them.

_How much longer can I continue this..._

Indeed - she was late for class and did not even plan to attend today. Drying and dressing haphazardly, she aimlessly moved things about her room with no purpose in mind -anything to distract her or procrastinate the inevitable depression which she knew would come.

_Maybe..._

A hopeful glance at her cell phone and her heart sank once more.

_Nothing._

_Maybe she is moving on._

Static.

She flipped her phone shut, clenching her fist around it, pausing with eyes closed as her hand wrapped around the tiny cellular device, remembering how it felt at times just a year or two before when a simple text message could rock her world. Or end it. Create it. Destroy it. She loved it and hated it.

She had kept the same custom ringtone even after she felt the slow movement of glaciers pulling away from each other, shrugging it off as simply being too lazy to alter the chimes. She had kept on using the scent she knew Shizuru liked - despite her initial, secret dislike of it - though she was too far to catch a hint of Natsuki by now, telling herself that she simply did not like change. She would, every now and then, still glimpse back at those silly snapshots which Shizuru insisted upon saving, encrypted and stored folder within folder, well hidden for a damn good reason. Natsuki had always hated cleaning out her laptop and these things were far too trivial - or so she told herself. And for what it was worth, she had held onto the little umbrella from the tropical drink on their first _real_ date. And the little notes here and there. And the petals from those dumb flowers from that one time... And the burdens of remorse.

_Maybe I should ... visit her ..._

She opened her eyes to stare back at the cell phone, catching a glint of sunlight which dared to peak through the dark drapes and reflected off the shiny device like a mere idea, a tingling, thoughtful sensation which maybe, just maybe represented a hint of things to come.

Natsuki faintly let a genuine, tiny smile graze her face - not a smirk, or half-assed grin - feeling that perhaps the coming of the much anticipated spring break would bring more than just the blooming of flowers and angsty feelings of youth.

_Maybe..._

_.  
_

_

* * *

_

Softly the sight of the falling snow dwindled with her life. The sun crept low over the homes and apartment buildings with glittery, powder-dusted rooftops reflecting tiny rays into the atmosphere. The evening air of the balcony grew sharper by the second, cutting Shizuru's lungs like razors as each labored breath rose and fell with concentrated effort.

She ignored the blood which trickled down her fingertips as she slumped in her chair just beyond the sliding glass door.

She thumbed her palms and felt the tears of flesh. The would-be robber's puny knife would have done little damage had she not been an all-too-willing victim, anxious to aid him in his endeavors. She reveled in the reaction she had received from the young man: a stunned face and horrible cry, one distinctly belonging to a youth unaccustomed to real pain, strangled wits and terrified eyes. Did he truly think it that difficult to live? He thought he had it hard - so hard, in fact, that he must attempt to rob an innocent stranger on a park bench at dawn.

_Ha, he didn't know the meaning of pain._

She would show him what it truly meant to have nothing left, to be truly desperate: with what was left of her strength, she had grabbed the knife from him with her bare hands, caring not for the wounds inflicted upon her formerly lovely, delicate fingers. Just as the youth thought she would turn the blade on him within a split second, he witnessed something more disturbing - to his horror, she turned it on herself, blood seeping from her wrists and elsewhere as she repented again and again.

Sin had left a crimson stain, but _She_ would wash it white as snow.

This certainly was not how she had ever imagined she would leave this world - so unromantically alone, unnoticed, apathetic. How dreadfully dull and unheroic. Yet death was the only thing for which she had felt a passion in the many passing months. The blood trail which had made its way down the block from the park bench was nearly covered by now in the snow, curious eyes whispering theories of its origins as they went about their miserable business during the day beneath the gaze of the dying soul in the balcony. It was amazing how little people truly cared to investigate another's troubles, so long as they did not collide with their own.

Then again, it was not amazing at all. Not to Shizuru - the offspring of perfectionism and pessimism.

With a lopsided smile and head tilted slightly to the right, she basked in the glory and the lack thereof; the beauty, the fragrance of her last few hours, welcoming the inevitable, thinking it long overdue in her eagerness to escape. She had only one regret, but it did not matter now...

_Natsuki..._

_.  
_

_

* * *

_

The drapes were flung wide open, beckoning the sun in all her glory to invade the now lively dorm room, joining the burning of incense and the reviving cup of coffee. Music in the background echoed a nostalgic rhythm, a song of when she was younger before she had known the taste of heartbreak. Atmospheric pressure slid off her shoulders and she allowed the internal warmth to glow even more, enjoying her newfangled freedom like a 1940's Brooklyn Navy sailor with a weekend pass.

Natsuki went about her business with more purpose in mind now. Amidst the books, the overdue project, scattered papers, and instant noodle cups, her suitcase laid open and half buried already beneath a Picasso pile of clothes. She found herself amused at her 'art' piled atop the tiny luggage bag, and disregarded how far in advance she was setting her plans in motion. She had decided it was time: time to grow up and embrace a new beginning by becoming the child she never was and calling an end to bars and dams. The feelings of determination bubbled up within her like a pressurized effervescent prisoner let loosed within her core now that she had a goal. She _would_ make things right. She _would_ work toward coming to grips with her own feelings, fears, and dreadful love. _She would!_

_Shizuru, I-_

Overwhelmed by the sensations all at once, having kept them locked away so tightly for so long, she felt herself slump onto the bed slowly, and double over the half folded t-shirt still in hand as emotion caught her off guard. And she thought it brilliant, beautiful and terrible all at once to be so in love yet so enraptured and so very, _very_ alive now that she had made up her mind. She mulled over how strange these feelings were when they could catch her so offhandedly on some days: leaning on a door frame for support, forehead touching the trim, green eyes closed and teary, clinging to the wooden support as if it were the last friend in the world who understood that she did indeed miss her.

Impaled by the guilt, she told herself _'no more'_ and reinforced her efforts to capture what was lost, so long as it was not too late. Airline tickets, money transfers from old savings accounts, mountains of homework to tend to before the spring break set in - these things were peons in her way of going to be with Shizuru.

As far as she could see, things were looking up for her on the brighter side of life, for life was what one made of it and she would make life theirs.

.

* * *

Floating along gently, softly, Shizuru drifted on the breeze chasing the warmer winds of May, dreaming amongst pink blossoms in springtime, creating and destroying worlds at a whim - for life was what one made of it, and she tore it down to rebuild it daily. Forgetting her surroundings and reality once more, she felt herself at peace, comfortable in the knowledge that in her absence, there would be much awakening. Yes, indeed - everything would be made right once more.

She folded her hands in front of her, placing them gently on her lap as Natsuki twirled her end curls around her lovely fingers and spoke of old times long gone and made new. Shizuru did not need to open her eyes to know Natsuki was smiling as she softly spoke to her, standing behind her chair and keeping watch as always.

"You know, I'll miss you when you're gone..." and she felt a tickle against her cheek, a playful smearing of the dark gold, newly braided tip against her skin.

"No, I don't know. You have always _assumed_ I would know."

.

* * *

Natsuki clenched the t-shirt in her hands, fists wrapped tightly around it with whitened knuckles as she allowed herself to finally bury her face into it. _How stupid she had been!_ How foolish of her to have expected Shizuru to read between the lines all this time. How careless of her to have thought that noble intentions could be a replacement for the execution of thoughts and words. All this time she had pretended it would be sufficient to speak through words unspoken. The prodigal voice within her screamed to go home, and she knew - she just knew - that she would see Shizuru run upon seeing her, rushing to her side, throwing off the cares of the world and of her obligations to be prim and proper. She would be overjoyed and what she would not give just to see her sweet smile one more time.

.

No more static.

It was so clear now.

.

* * *

Shizuru did not fret over the impression her parting would leave, for all things become clear only in the wake of death. She amused herself at this thought, knowing that humans are such foolish creatures - it takes the death of a loved one for the most logical creature on earth to truly realize how things _should_ have been done, how events _should_ have gone, what things _should_ have been said. In her death, her loved one would find a new life and be free from the burden of extra explanations which defended her barriers, strangled her reasoning, choked her like a cardiac noose around a blistered heart.

Love's redemptive suicide would set forth the motions of war, for peace comes at a price and no lesson is learned without hardship.

.

* * *

Natsuki drew in a sharp breath, her body jerking with the efforts she put forth to simply take in oxygen. Tilting her head upwards, face alight and beautiful, she cherished the thought of future plans after sleeping dormant for so long.

She could not wait to start living.

.

* * *

Shizuru felt the last warmth of the sun's rays upon her face as she bid farewell, the moon already visible and beckoning her. So what if living was so glorified and splendid? The sanctity and preservation of life were so overrated, as was the execution.

The universe yawned in acknowledgement as she slipped into the heavyhearted sleep.

.

* * *

Natsuki broke free of the sorrow, grabbing her nearby laptop in her determination, shoving aside all else as she booked a flight to Sapporo. And while the world would look on in awe, contemplating the glimpse of depth their love conceded - her fingers typed furiously, nervously - they would lightheartedly laugh, thinking the feelings so youthful, so green, and so splendidly simple, the point reached only by the select few who were fortunate enough to overcome life's hurdles while remaining hand-in-hand.

They would be young, vibrant, and forever full of youthful enthusiasm.

.

* * *

And what was with this whole hype over living anyway? What was this _trend_ people called living? Long Shizuru had searched for some ultimate purpose, thinking one day! One day there would be some pivotal moment, some epiphany of bursting revelation and she would think _'That's it!_'… but life lets one down ever softly, allowing one to slump into gradual disappointment, merging with the insignificant traffic of the passersby, the corporate clones, the paperwork and midnight oil. Rolling with the tides which burst forth past the dams, Shizuru felt herself engulfed, swept up into oblivion as a brief puff of smoke evaporating into the atmosphere

-Only here for a moment, leaving traces of the honey almond scent which evaporated into a dorm room far away.

.

* * *

She would once again clasp her face between her hands and just as gently as the spring time had once thawed the winter raven's frozen heart, as gradual as the creeping erosion which pulled pebbles down over centuries, and as surely as the plates which formed the mountains and the sea, she would embrace Shizuru's beautiful asymmetry.

The people of another nation called for revolution; child soldiers woke up to lead rainfall amidst muddy comets; bombs of the radicals loosed shrapnel into unfortunate naysayers and love was being professed on a restroom wall - she felt the universe screaming for reform from the fiery solar storms to the adolescent first kiss.

She clicked the final confirmation for one flight to Okadama Airport, noting the stops along the way.

_Sorry Shizuru, just wait a little while longer...I'll be there._

_.  
_

_

* * *

_

_I am sorry Natsuki, guess you'll have to wait a little while before we're together again._

_.  
_

_

* * *

_

An old man at a bar felt nostalgia tap him on the shoulder, and he turned around to greet the sweet face of his loved one, youthful as ever and smiling like always- captured in time with that old twin lens reflex.

He smiled in the gentle manner of an extinct generation and raised a glass in her honor, remembering the young girl of the previous night and many years ago as the jukebox sang on with the same sad song.

And time may be the ultimate healer, but a shot from his ol' buddy Jack sure helped.

_"...But I always thought that I'd see you again."_

_._

_

* * *

_

_Dear reader,_

_I do of course realize it's not your typical happy ending for our couple for the point is not contained within the plot, but - as with life - rather it is woven within the details of the fabric. I hope to bring about and make obvious the universal connectedness shared but unnoticed - for nothing brings about clarity like tragedy. And ironic tragedy at that. I hope some of the symbolism was understood at least a little, or that it made you ponder the meaning even briefly. If you found it even remotely interesting, then I will be heartened. _

_On a side note, I must give credit where credit is due:_

_A reference to the hymn "Jesus Paid It All" was made, and it was written by _Elvina M. Hall.

_The end lyrics are of James Taylor's "Fire and Rain" - a good song so have a listen if you don't know it :)_


End file.
